


it's showtime | produce 101 drabbles

by boo98 (butter)



Category: Produce 101 (TV), Wanna One (Band)
Genre: Drabbles, F/F, M/M, Pairings to be added, ratings change each chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-11-08 18:42:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11087649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butter/pseuds/boo98
Summary: A collection of my drabbles for Produce 101, because there are far too many boys I want to write about to do full fics for each.Pairings will be added as I post them, and ratings will change but nothing higher than what the fic is marked as.





	1. dressed up in the finest things | eunki/jungjung

**Author's Note:**

> Eunki/JungJung, rated M but nothing particularly explicit  
> Crossdressing, implied prostitution
> 
> Requests welcome at https://curiouscat.me/ponyoprince! Note: I won't write anything rated over T featuring any of the boys under 19.

Eunki doesn’t wear his work clothes when he sees Zhengting. He tried to, once, in the early stages of this thing they have going, but Zhengting had just laughed and snapped the waistband of the black panties he had on before thoroughly stripping everything off.

“I like you in this,” Zhengting had crooned, smoothing his hands down Eunki’s bare thighs and scooting lower on the bed in his hotel room. “You look nice in nothing.”

Eunki hadn’t had any real complaints about that – it was much easier to hook his leg around and press his heel against Zhengting’s back as he sucked him off without anything in the way.

It was nice with Zhengting. When Eunki was younger, when he had just started out in the Seoul nightclub circuit and barely owned anything nicer than costume shop wigs, he had men who wanted him to stay dressed. Older men, with rings that they took off before they even saw him but that he found in their pockets sometimes when he went to take a tip from their wallets. They liked the panties, and the corsets that Eunki couldn’t really pull off, and the stockings and garters that he definitely could.

He meets Zhengting at his regular club, the one that Hwanwoong bartends at and that actually has nice seating areas. It’s half women at bachelorette parties with enough money to blow on expensive champagne, and half the unmarried type that go because they don’t have anyone to go home to, rather than having someone they don’t want to see.

Zhengting was the latter, obviously.

Eunki is dressed up for a show, black heels and light brown wig that curled delicately to where breasts would be at the dress he was wearing. He didn’t usually pad – he was skinny, and he could usually work the chic flat-chested type just fine.

Kenta sees him first, because Kenta looks innocent in his huge false eyelashes but is the biggest size queen Eunki has ever met, and is constantly eyeing the tallest guys in the place. “Red hair and suit, over by the bar,” he murmurs and elbows Eunki in the ribs. “What’s your opinion?”

Eunki squints over, propping one hand on his hip. “Looks a little lost.”

“He’s here with a few of the Chinese salary-men regulars,” Kenta said, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Maybe he is lost.”

Eunki watches the man in the suit shoot a sunny smile at Minki as he walks by with a tray of shots. He doesn’t waver at all when Minki gives him a sultry once-over from under his bangs and takes it upon himself to straighten the man’s tie with one hand as he continues by. “I don’t think so.”

Later that night, when Eunki is disgustingly sweaty from the dancing and the heat of the stage lights, the man in the suit comes up to him. “Hi,” he says, beaming a little too bright for the fact that it was almost two in the morning. “Can I sit here?”

Eunki glances at the completely empty couch that he’d seated himself on, tucked away a little so that he could have some peace and quiet while he pounded the vodka cranberry that Hwanwoong slid his way. “Of course.”

“Thanks.” The man sits on the other end of the couch, legs turned his way so that he can face him when he talks. Which he does. “My name is Zhu Zhengting.”

“Nice to meet you.” Eunki adjusts his posture, crossing his feet more at the ankle because he knows that it makes his legs look longer. “I’m Eunki.”

Zhengting blinks at him. “Do you use your real name?”

Eunki twists his mouth to the side a bit and takes the opportunity to brush the fly-aways of the wig out of his face. “I’m not sure if that’s your business, Zhu Zhengting-ssi.”

Rather than puff up and get defensive like he thought he would, Zhengting just tips his head back and laughs loudly. “I deserved that, I think.” He looks back at Eunki, and his eyes are much more bright than he had noticed at first. “Can I buy you a drink? Your dance was beautiful.”

‘Beautiful’ wasn’t quite what Eunki would call the performances he did at clubs. He’s taller than some of the other dancers, he knows, and that makes him look a little more graceful and elegant with the poles, but that was about it. Still, he isn’t humble enough to not let the compliment go to his head.

“How could I say no to that?” He shakes his glass a little, ice cubes clinking in the mostly-empty bottom. “You can tell the bartender I’ll have my usual.”

Zhengting grins and stands back up to walk over to the bar. Eunki watches him go with heavy lids. The guy cuts a good figure – he wonders, idly, how much of it is the suit.

Hwanwoong shoots him a wide-mouthed, over-dramatically shocked look the second Zhengting turns his back to head over to Eunki’s couch again. Eunki wiggles his fingers at his friend and takes the drink when Zhengting offers it. “So. What brings you to this particular Seoul basement?”

Zhengting settles back down on the couch – a little closer than before, Eunki notes with a little spark of excitement. “I’m here on a business trip, and we wanted to see some of the city.”

“Business trip?” Eunki sips his drink a bit more delicately than he did the first one. “From where?”

“My company’s based in Shanghai, but they send me out to Seoul at least once a month.”

“You sound important, then.”

Zhengting laughs again. His tie is knotted neatly at the base of his throat still, and Eunki’s fingers twich to loosen it. “I suppose so.” He shifts his grip on the glass he’s holding, ice swirling through what Eunki can tell is their upper-shelf whiskey. “I haven’t been here before, though.”

Eunki tuts. “You’ve been missing out, then, going to these other places.”

Zhengting raises his glass a little in cheers. “Obviously.”

It’s easy, talking to Zhengting. His Korean is a little rough in places, but he’s charming as hell, and when Eunki gravitates towards him on the couch he leans in closer in turn, like he was pulled with a magnet.

At one point Zhengting says something particularly funny and Eunki swats him on the thigh before he can think about it, mid-laugh. Zhengting seems completely undeterred, though, and the next thing Eunki notices he has an arm draped casually across the back of the couch. Eunki can feel the heat of him, and it had his neck going hot and red.  

Eventually, though, the club has to close. Eunki teeters a little on his heels when he stands up, not drunk but tipsier than he had been when he had stood up last over an hour ago.

Zhengting hesitates for a second before placing a hand on his waist to steady him. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, sorry,” Eunki makes an educated guess and slips an arm through Zhengting’s bent one. “I can walk you out, if you want? I still have to go get my things from the dressing room.”

Zhengting gives him a thoughtful look. They’re the same height, Eunki maybe a hair taller in heels. “Can I walk you home?”

Eunki ignores the snort that comes from behind the bar, and pats Zhengting on the arm. “No, but you can walk me somewhere else, if you want.”

Zhengting looks a little shell-shocked, and then immediately afterwards splits into a sunny grin. “Of course, Eunki-ssi.”

“What do I do?” Eunki asks Kenta the second he gets backstage and into the dressing room. “There’s no fucking way I’m walking from here to a hotel in this,” he gestures to the lacy slip he has on. “But I can’t get a read on this guy, I don’t know if my street clothes are okay.”

“You never get this flustered about guys,” Kenta observes, and presses two cotton pads soaked in makeup remover to his eyes. “Just change and worry about it later. If he doesn’t like you in jeans then he doesn’t like you in jeans, it’s not the end of the world.”

“He’s so _cute_ , though,” Eunki whines a bit and sets himself to unpinning his wig. “And I’m just sweaty and gross once I’m not wearing a dress anymore. I don’t think that’s as appealing.”

“I took a guy home one time when I was wearing sweatpants and a shirt covered in fryer oil,” Minki drawls as he squeezes by them. “He had no complaints.”

Eunki carefully doesn’t say anything about how that might be because Minki doesn’t care about what people think about him, ever, no matter the situation, and also has a reputation for doing almost anything in bed.

He ends up in jeans and a clean t-shirt that he had balled up in his bag, with a baseball hat over his hair and just smudges of eyeliner at the edge of his eyes.

He was half-expecting Zhengting to be long gone by the time Eunki gets out the back entrance of the club but no – he’s still there, leaning against the wall and looking through his phone with the screen lighting up his face.

Zhengting looks up when Eunki gets close enough and the same smile breaks out on his face, sending blood rushing to Eunki’s cheeks because what is this guy’s deal. “Eunki-ssi, hey.”

“Hey.” Eunki ignores the way that Zhengting offers his elbow to him, because it was the middle of the night but two men still can’t quite get away with that in public in this part of Seoul. “Wanna go?”

Zhengting does. “My hotel that I’m staying at is only a five-minute cab ride away,” he says, leading them down the street from the club.

“I’d love to see the type of room they put you important businessmen in.” Eunki should probably be a bit more on edge, being in the middle of the mostly empty city with a stranger, but he can’t bring it upon himself to cast suspicions onto Zhengting’s character. He’s too precious, with his nice suit and the slight flush on his cheeks.

He’s even better when they make it back to the hotel – it’s as nice as Eunki suspected it might be, nice enough that the receptionist doesn’t even double-take at Eunki when she sees Zhengting coming in. They make it to the elevator and then Zhengting’s drifting closer to him, one arm finding its place on his waist and leaning in.

“I hope you don’t think I’m being rude,” Zhengting says, close and soft and breezy against Eunki’s neck. “I think you’re beautiful.”

Eunki looks at him, trying to tell what exactly he means by that. “I hope you’re not disappointed,” he says, lifting a hand to smooth at the dark circles under Zhengting’s eyes with a thumb as their elevator continues the climb to the tenth floor. “These are only my third-best jeans.”

He gets another laugh for his efforts, along with a kiss to the skin below his ear that’s so quick it may not have even happened.

Zhengting lets them into his room with the key card, holding the door open so that Eunki can go first.

“Such a gentleman,” he teases as he slips into the room. It’s _very_ nice – a small kitchen space, what looks like a tub with jets in the bathroom, and a huge bed. Eunki is nothing close to ashamed to note that he has plans for that bed.

He makes it to the kitchen area when hands wrap carefully around his waist and Zhengting presses close to his back. Eunki lets his head tip back a little onto Zhengting’s shoulder, lips curling pleased like a cat. “Zhengting-ssi,” he says, reaching back to play with the hair at the base of his neck, “Am I to think that you brought me here with certain intentions?”

“Maybe,” Zhengting says, tone entirely too cute for the way that his fingers are slipping through Eunki’s belt loops and tugging. “Is that alright with you, Eunki-ssi?”

Zhengting’s hard when Eunki curiously rolls his hips back a little, and for a thrilling second Eunki wonders just how long he’s been that way. If he watched Eunki dance and just sat there, glass of whiskey sweating in his hand and expensive suit trousers growing tighter. If it wasn’t until Eunki came out of the club in ratty jeans and a bare face – that option is infinitely more tempting, and Eunki makes a note to ask about it later.

“I can work with that, I think.” In one movement he turns around and pushes Zhengting so he’s backed up against the refrigerator. Eunki leans in, noticing their now almost equal heights without the help of his heels, and he lets his mouth curl further into a self-satisfied smirk as he slips a thigh between Zhengting’s. “I think I need a proper kiss, first – I’m a classy lady, you know.”

Zhengting kisses him so thoroughly that Eunki feels a bit embarrassed for egging him on the way he did, but there’s only so much shame you can feel when you’re also being bent halfway over backwards, with strong palms on your lower back the only thing supporting you.

Zhengting’s mouth is red and wet by the time Eunki finishes that particular kiss, although he’s already planning out the next one. “I think,” Zhengting says later while Eunki works at his belt with one hand while palming his dick through his pants with the other, “That I might request more visits to the Seoul branch.”

Eunki hums, finally done with the belt and hell-bent on answering some of Kenta’s unasked questions earlier that night. “That’s probably a good plan.”


	2. tongue-tied | sewoon/youngmin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sewoon/Youngmin, rated T  
> Genderswap/cisswap canon AU - aka our boys are IOI
> 
> I didn't change names bc I'm not confident enough in finding genderswapped equivalents lol, and having just a danielle would've been weird

Sewoon isn’t as overwhelming with the skinship as some of the other IOI girls. The Nu’est unnies have all known each other for so long that it’s second nature by now, after all, and the younger ones tend to pile up together, especially in their dorm when they watch movies. Or, when they watch old recordings of music shows, 90% because they all may have debuted but they still have boy groups to keep up to date on.

“You really can’t beat Twice, can you?” Daehwi says, crumbs dropping on her t-shirt from the chips she’s eating. “They’re all so handsome, too. When did JYP start getting so many visuals?”

“I thought you would know that,” Jihoon sniffs and steals some of the other girl’s snacks, legs thrown casually over her lap. “Isn’t that why you didn’t last longer there?” She yelps when Daehwi pinches her in the side for the comment, pulling back from the bag of chips.

Sewoon can’t help but smile at them from behind her hand.  She only meant to sit down for a few minutes, in between showering and actually getting ready for bed, but somehow lost track of time. Her hair is longer now than she’s used to having it, and it drips down the back of her shirt in a nice relief from the stifling heat of their dorm in August.

A shadow casts itself across the notebook she has perched in her lap, lyric-writing already forgotten, and Youngmin tsks above her. “You’re going to be all bloated in the morning, eating those this close to bed.”

Daehwi makes a face but dutifully clips the bag closed, although not before Jihoon can snag one more chip.

Youngmin sighs and settles on the arm of Sewoon’s chair. “Is this last week’s Inkigayo?”

Sewoon nods, and tries to seem a little more interested in the boy group currently on stage than the way that Youngmin’s skin cream smells clean and soft, kind of like roses. “The girls wanted to catch up, since they missed the episode while we were at that photoshoot.”

Youngmin makes a hum of acknowledgement but doesn’t move to leave, and instead nudges Sewoon in the shoulder a little. “C’mon, there’s room for two in there, you’re skinny.”

It _is_ a big chair – Daniel and Seongwoo regularly squeeze themselves side-by-side in it, rather than have one of them sit on the floor. Still, Sewoon’s a little too slow to move completely over, and so she gets one of Youngmin’s legs tossed over her own when the other girl slides off of the arm and into the seat.

“See?” she says, slinging an arm over Sewoon’s shoulders. “Isn’t this cozy?”

Sewoon shoots her an unimpressed look for the casual mimic. “Very cozy.”

Youngmin grins and rubs her cheek against Sewoon’s damp hair affectionately. “Our Sewoonie,” she coos. “We’ll make a proper idol out of you yet.”

“What does being an idol have to do with letting you squish her?” Dongho asks from across the room, having just wandered out from the bathroom. She has a headband pushing her bangs back as she casually pats skin cream in underneath her eyes. “Seems like it’d be harder to dance if you make her legs fall asleep.”

“Unnie’s already a proper idol, anyways,” Jihoon pipes up. “Just because she sings better than any of us except Jaehwan doesn’t mean she’s not an idol.”

Sewoon smiles at Jihoon as Youngmin sighs and settles her cheek more fully against the crown of her head. “I know that, I’m just sayin’.” Her accent comes out a bit when she tries to sound all sad and dejected like that – it’s cute.

“I know what you meant, unnie,” Sewoon finally says, and pats her on the knee once in an attempt to pacify her. “I still have to get a handle on fanservice, and all that. I get it.”

Youngmin grumbles a bit about the kids ganging up on her but settles in more comfortably against Sewoon’s side once Monsta X go on stage. Later, when the show recording is finished and Sewoon finally gets up to do her skin regime and brush her teeth, she runs back into Youngmin outside of the room she shares with the rest of the oldest girls.

“You know I think you’re a great idol, right?” Youngmin asks, twisting the damp and curling edges of her hair in her fingers. “I was joking, earlier.”

Sewoon blinks once before smiling a little, the small one that she knows she does at cute things like pictures of cats and babies. “I know, unnie. It’s okay.”

Youngmin seems to search her expression for a moment before nodding, mouth set. “Cool, okay.” She breaks into a yawn, and then rubs her knuckles against her eyes. “Sleep tight, then, Sewoon-ah. Big day tomorrow.”

It is a big day – they have a special stage prerecording practically at dawn, and then they have to drive all the way to Daegu for a fan sign. It’s already almost two in the morning now. Living in the IOI dorm is bad for Sewoon’s sleep schedule; if she was back in the Starship trainee dorms she’d be passed out the second she got back from dance practice. “You sleep well too, then.”

Youngmin nods and grins, eyes soft and round and sleepy, before ducking back into her room.

 

An 11-person girl group is too many, Sewoon decides, peering into their over-crowded van hesitantly. She taps her fingers against the frame of the door and bites at her lip as she surveys the scene. Daehwi’s usual seat is covered in all of their neck pillows, which she always steals to make herself a pillow pile for early-morning trips to the studio. The floor is mostly clean except for a few crumpled pieces of paper and one of her own guitar picks, which she grabs before hiking herself up into the car.

Someone behind her presses the hem of her skirt flush to the back of her thighs when it flutters in the air behind her and Sewoon jumps, twisting half-around before relaxing again. “Unnie, you scared me,” she breathes out, pressing a hand to her chest to try to calm her heart as Youngmin just blinks up at her.

She grins, all big eyes and flashing white teeth. “Just trying to protect your modesty, Sewoon-ah.” Youngmin flicks at the edge of her skirt again and laughs. “It’s not every day that we get to see you looking so girly, after all.”

Sewoon rolls her eyes against a flush and turns back around to climb into the back row of seats, where her notebook and small makeup bag are tucked into the seat pocket. “I have safety shorts underneath, you know.”

“Yeah,” Youngmin says and crawls over the middle row too to sit on the side opposite from Sewoon. “But your uncle fans all have those big lens attachments on their cameras, and I think they want thigh shots.” She digs her phone out of her bag and unlocks it. “You really should watch out for yourself. They love the innocent ones.”

Sewoon glances out of her tinted window at the small mob of people that line the street and sidewalk at the back exit of the music show studio. “How am I any more innocent than Daehwi? Or Guanlin, for that matter.”

“Guanlin’s nowhere near innocent, are you kidding me?” Sewoon watches Youngmin switch her phone to the front camera so she can check her bright red bangs. “Besides, they’re babies. You’re twenty-one and still don’t wear anything that’s close to being sexy. You’re starving them out for skin.”

Sewoon feels her ears go hot before she can do anything about it and so she turns more fully to the window to watch the rest of their group file out of the studio. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Youngmin giggles and pats her on the knee. “You’re too cute, Sewoon.”

11 girls is _really_ too many when you pack them all into a single van, plus their manager driving. Jonghyun has permanent dibs on the front passenger seat thanks to being leader and one of the eldest, and the rest all manage to pile in with a minimum of elbows thrown and snapping about usual seats. 

“Scoot over, unnie,” Daniel says and nudges Youngmin with the toe of her converse sneakers. “You got the window seat last time.”

Youngmin rolls her eyes but good-naturedly follows the direction and slides over to the middle seat in the back row, leg pressing flush against Sewoon’s. “This is a dumb organization anyways. All the other groups put the maknaes in the back.”

“I get carsick, unnie, you know that,” Daehwi whines from her seat in the front, twisting around so she can pout back at them. “And Jihoon and I have to practice the script for the radio show tomorrow.”

“You just know I’m a softie, brat,” Youngmin shoots back from over Seongwoo’s head. “Just wait ‘till we get back in the BNM cars. You’ll never escape the back row.”

Sewoon tips her head against the glass of the window and watches as they pull away from the parking lot of the studio. She hadn’t been able to sleep immediately last night. She had a song she was working on, but it was still in the beginning stages, where she got nervous that she would lose the feel for it if she didn’t get it all written out and practiced through before she went to sleep.

The van quiets down as most of them fall asleep until the only sound is the soft conversation between Junghyun and their manager in the front seat and the muffled bass beat of the music coming from Daniel’s earbuds. The drive to their fan sign is supposed to be close to three hours long – they’ll take the rest when they can get it.

Sewoon drifts into a shallow nap too, at least for a little bit. She isn’t sure exactly how long she’d been sleeping when she wakes up to a warm hand on her left thigh, just above her knee.

Youngmin is flipping through her texts with her free hand when Sewoon’s eyes flutter open, and she looks over to tilt her head and smile at Sewoon. Her fingers tap against Sewoon’s thigh a few times before stilling, with just her thumb passing in light circles on the outside of her leg.

Sewoon blinks at her. Her stomach goes strange and shivery when Youngmin spreads her hand wider, almost cupping the entire top of Sewoon’s thigh in the stretch of her fingers.

Youngmin leans forward to prop her chin on Sewoon’s shoulder, breath brushing in soft pushes of air against the skin of her neck. “You suit this concept well, Sewoon-ah,” she murmurs, more breath than voice. “You should have more confidence.”

Sewoon swallows, flush back in full force at her ears and her cheeks now too as Youngmin’s fingers shift just a little closer to the soft skin on the inside of her thighs. “Thanks, unnie,” she whispers back.

Youngmin nods, pleased, and straightens up against the seat. “You can put your head on my shoulder, if you want. You’ll sleep better.”

“Um.” Sewoon glances at the rest of the van. The front two rows are silent in sleep by this point except for Seongwoo’s signature raspy breathing when she’s really out cold, and Daniel’s awake but looking broodily out of the other window with her music blasting in her ears. The high backs of the van seats mean that the front row can only see their heads, and maybe the tops of their shoulders.

That knowledge all translates into Sewoon carefully setting her head on Youngmin’s shoulder, as directed. “Thanks.”

Youngmin hums, the vibrations of her throat more apparent from this close up. Her hand feels hot against Sewoon’s thigh, and it must have moved up a bit without her noticing because Youngmin takes a second to play with the fabric of the hem of her skirt.

Sewoon swallows, sure that the sound is loud in the quiet car, but no one seems to hear it. Except for Youngmin, who skirts the pads of her fingers against the inside of Sewoon’s thigh. The touch leaves sparks in its path, and Sewoon fights the urge to squeeze her legs together against the feeling.

After a moment, though, Youngmin apparently finishes with her and pulls her hand back so she can use both hands to fiddle with her phone. Sewoon settles her head a bit more firmly against her shoulder and picks at a loose thread on her skirt, ignoring the way she feels just a little bereft.

 

The ride to Daegu is uneventful, although longer than planned thanks to city traffic. Their manager plus the extra staff driving behind them end up having to rush them into the fan sign venue to get touch-ups done before the doors open. Sewoon’s used to taking things at a slightly quicker pace than she would like to, these days.

They get changed out of their stage outfits and into a new sets of clothes, too. Sewoon takes a second to marvel at how set each of their characters are, only months after their debut.

“It’s like they never want Daehwi in something that isn’t pastel,” Minhyun says lowly, patting the younger girl on the arm. “Or you, for that matter, Sewoon.”

Sewoon glances at herself in the mirror of the dressing room they’ve taken over. “The skirt’s new,” she says, plucking at the hem. It’s a different one than the cheerleader-inspired outfit that they’d all been in for the prerecording that morning – this one is a pink and purple plaid, which looks cute and girly with the overlarge white sweater she’s wearing on top. “I used to always be in jeans.”

“You’re so sexy now, unnie,” Guanlin says through a smirk, brushing her short-cut hair back from her face. “The whole Ponyo fanclub is going to faint.”

Sewoon flushes and would have something to say back to that if it weren’t for their manager quickly herding them all to get in line and get to the door – the fan sign starts in five.

She finds her place between Youngmin and Jaehwan quickly, and flashes back a smile in return to Jaehwan’s wide grin and thumbs-up.

Youngmin, on the other hand, clicks her tongue and adjusts the wide v-neck of Sewoon’s collar, pulling it to the side so it shows more collarbone and less chest. “They should have pinned this better,” she says.

Sewoon smiles and shrugs, already wishing she had pockets to put her hands in. “It’s only for an hour.”

Youngmin’s mouth twists but she nods anyways, withdrawing her hands to shove them in the leather jacket she has on over some black, half-mesh thing. “We’re gonna look funny sitting next to each other, with these concepts,” she mutters, gesturing to their very different outfits with a tilt of her chin.

“It’ll make good pictures?” Sewoon tries, and then goes a bit further. “We can make couple hearts, they’ll like that.”

The fans _love_ that. Sewoon has always preferred the girls who run her few fansites to the gushy boys that come to these things, and the girls are always shouting out her name and getting her to pose awkwardly for their cameras.

They prefer it, somehow, when she looks just a little uncomfortable to be on camera. It works for her – she’s still getting used to the idea that she’s recognizable, now.

Halfway through the fan sign, while Daniel and Seongwoo are vamping on the handheld microphones that got passed around, Youngmin leans into Sewoon’s side. “D’you think I could get away with taking the cookies that the last girl gave me, or would our manager catch me?” The cat-ear headband that she was given earlier pokes Sewoon in the side of the head.

Sewoon can’t help the way her mouth quirks into a smile, and she turns to survey Youngmin’s personal pile of fan gifts. “You could always try hiding them in one of the alpaca plushies.”

Youngmin laughs, head thrown back a little. “That would be a _way_ better gift, a secret compartment plushie. Do you think they sell those?”

“I’m sure one of your fans would make one for you, unnie, if you mentioned it.”

Youngmin grins at her, teeth a little pointy. “You’re a genius, Sewoon.” She curls an arm through Sewoon’s and directs her smile out towards the audience, where cameras suddenly ramp up in their clicking. “Let’s pose, I see PacaPonyo signs.”

Sewoon reddens a little at the mention of their particular fan union but looks out at the audience too. “What should I do?”  
“You decide.” Youngmin tightens her arm so that Sewoon is pulled a little closer to her side.

That’s a little high-pressure, as far as Sewoon is concerned. She toys with the idea of just trying a wink, but that’s never been exactly her best skill. Partly out of nowhere, she remembers some of the most posted-about pictures of the older members, and maybe it’s the lack of sleep but she feels strangely emboldened.

It makes it easier than it would be otherwise to twist and press a kiss to Youngmin’s cheek, pausing for a split second to let the squeals heighten exponentially in volume and for the flashes to blind her before she pulls away. There’s just a little bit of her pink lip stain on Youngmin’s cheek, and Sewoon takes a moment to swipe it away with the pad of her thumb.

Youngmin seems frozen for a beat, but almost immediately recovers and directs a beaming smile at Sewoon. “See, you’re getting better at these things!”

Sewoon giggles a little, and then a little more when she feels Youngmin hook an ankle around one of hers from under the table. “I have a lot of good role models.”

 

Later that night, after fansite preview pictures of the cheek kiss have thoroughly made the rounds on Pann and Twitter, Youngmin finds Sewoon in their small dorm kitchen.

“You’re famous, Posanova,” she drawls, making Sewoon jump and spill a bit of her glass of water on the counter. Youngmin slides up to stand next to her, features looking blurred and even younger with her bare face. “You always have the calmest fans, until you pull something like this.”

Sewoon can’t help the huff of laughter that escapes her as she mops up the water with a paper towel. “I don’t get it, sometimes.”

“I do.” Youngmin wraps an arm casually around Sewoon’s waist, fingers toying with the stretched-out and old waistband of her pajama pants. “You’re so calm and collected – it’s interesting when you do something unexpected.”

“Is it?” Sewoon turns just a little to see Youngmin better. She has her hair pulled back and her bangs clipped up, and her eyes look darker framed with her natural eyebrows and her pale face. “Is it good, being interesting?”

Youngmin blinks, one eyebrow quirking up. “I think so. Especially in this business, you know?”

Sewoon hums, pretending to think for a moment. “That’s good to know.”

She’s in her sock feet, so she has to be careful not to slip when she scoots a bit closer to Youngmin, close enough that she can easily swoop in and press a kiss to Youngmin’s lips. It’s quick, and casual because Youngmin’s mouth is slack with surprise, and when Sewoon pulls back she just has to laugh again at the utter shock in the older girl’s expression. “Like that?”

Youngmin blinks, looking like she should have a buffering wheel spinning in her eyes, before she tightens her grip and hauls Sewoon closer again. “You,” she says, obviously trying to look stern but fighting with a grin and the natural softness of her features, “Are way worse than any of your fans think.”

Sewoon opens her mouth to argue the point but the words are muffled when Youngmin presses in to kiss her again. That’s fine, she thinks to herself, looping her arms over Youngmin’s shoulders as the other girl gets both hands around her waist. She’ll have to think of some new way to be interesting, now. Youngmin won’t be surprised by this one again.


	3. goosebumps | dongsu/namhyung

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dongsu/Namhyung, rated T  
> Ridiculously cheesy, domestic kidfic AU

Seoul in the morning is loud with commuter traffic, and the dull noise of the cars driving by drifts up and into the open window that Namhyung has his head half-out of. It’s February, and so he’s trying his best to only have the window open the minimum amount necessary to get a quick smoke in.

He still hasn’t quite kicked the habit that his brief stint in the army had started, although recent developments have made him a bit more determined to break it.

Namhyung’s stubbing the cigarette out in the small ashtray he keeps on the windowsill for this purpose when a heavy weight thuds against the back of his shoulders. Only long-established routine keeps him from jumping in surprise.

“It’s early,” Dongsu groans behind him, pushing his arms around Namhyung’s waist. “And you’re letting all the heat out, dude.”

Namhyung’s laugh is low and rusty from the morning and the smoke, and he shuts the window carefully before turning to face Dongsu. Dongsu blinks back at him, eyes squinted almost closed against the grey light beaming in from outside, and Namhyung has to duck down and kiss his frown quickly before getting batted away.

“That’s not gonna work,” Dongsu says, although his expression softens a bit. “’Morning.”

“’Morning.” He eyes the sweatshirt that Dongsu apparently pulled on before wandering from their bedroom to the kitchen. “I think that’s mine.”

Dongsu looks down at the red Supreme label as if he forgot what he was wearing and shrugs. “We’re the same size, we share a closet.” He raises an eyebrow at Namhyung. “There’s the whole dating thing, too.”

“Right.” Namhyung’s a good boyfriend, so he keeps his hands on the outside of the sweatshirt, rather than slip them underneath to warm them against the heated skin of Dongsu’s sides. “How are you awake already? I didn’t even hear you get back last night.”

Dongsu hums and collapses forward again to rest his forehead on Namhyung’s shoulder. “You know that new group they’re trying to produce by August? Only like half of them are going to be anywhere near ready, vocally, and so it’s into overtime. For me too, then.”

Namhyung nods understandingly, even though the bullshit that Dongsu goes through for the entertainment company he works for goes straight over his head most of the time. “Minseo missed you.”

He feels rather than hears Dongsu’s pleased noise at that, vibrating against his collarbones that are stupidly bare because Namhyung hadn’t bothered to put anything on over the tank top he had slept in when he came out here. “She’s getting better about it, though. A few months ago she would have thrown a total tantrum if I hadn’t been around to tuck her in.”

Namhyung’s chest goes a little weirdly expanded at that, like a balloon is being blown up behind his ribs, and he tightens his grip around Dongsu’s waist. “You think?”

“Yeah, ‘course.” Dongsu pulls back just enough to peer up at Namhyung. Namhyung’s not a tall guy but Dongsu’s _really_ not, and up close like this it’s pronounced enough to be just barely noticeable. “You’re doing a good job, you know,” he says, voice going a little hushed and fond because he’s a sap.

Still, it’s enough praise to blow that balloon up a bit more, pressing right against his lungs. “Thanks.”

Dongsu grins at him before leaning in to kiss him again, more properly than before but still close-mouthed against Namhyung’s cigarette and his morning breath. It’s kind of horrifying, Namhyung thinks as he bunches the fabric of his own sweatshirt in his hands, how quickly he’s gotten used to this.

Namhyung didn’t expect to be here. If you had told him even two years ago that he’d be dating his best friend, moved in with him and his daughter, and stupidly in love with both of them, he might have punched you.

It just wasn’t realistic. He was a plain-looking dude, with a pretty boring job and a shitty roommate in a tiny Seoul apartment. Dongsu had always been the one between the two of them that was a little more put together – he’d gone to a good school for vocal training right after the army, complete with a pretty, live-in girlfriend.

She’d been nice. Namhyung hadn’t met her that many times before he had been gone on his own term of service, and then all he’d had to go off of was occasional email updates from Dongsu with pictures of them on their trips to Daegu to visit her parents.  

Then, there’d been a period of radio silence. Namhyung hadn’t been too sure what to expect when he moved back to Seoul – maybe Dongsu had broken up with her, maybe they’d eloped without telling anybody.

When he met Minseo she had seemed so tiny that he couldn’t really believe that she was a whole six months old.

“Sohee and I talked a lot about it,” Dongsu had said, voice strained and thick with lack of sleep as they sat on Dongsu’s patchy couch and watched Minseo wiggle around on her baby blanket. “We knew by that point that we weren’t going to be together for the long haul, you know? But she was heading to med school, she couldn’t have a kid.”

He had rubbed a hand down his face then, and Namhyung’s fingers twitched for a way to ease some of the tension that was obvious in his shoulders. “I have complete parental rights over her. Sohee can visit, obviously, it’s like – she’ll be like an aunt, you know?” Dongsu let out a punched, self-deprecating laugh and slumped a little heavier into the couch. “I just couldn’t get the thought of Minseo out of my head, even when she was barely anything at all. You know?”

Namhyung didn’t, not really, but he knew enough to pat Dongsu on the knee a few times. “I can help, hyung, if you need anything.”

Dongsu had grinned at him, eyes a little manic but bright even as he cracked into a huge yawn. “You’re gonna regret that, you’ll see.”

He hadn’t. Even when Minseo had gotten old enough to walk and had wrecked his old phone, even when she threw tantrums when Namhyung had to babysit her while Dongsu was out of town on business.

It was weird, but she felt important. She was so tiny, still, and while she was still barely walking there was something in the tilt of her eyes that reminded him of Dongsu, sweet but focused.

And that was the other part of it, the other thing that he would have never expected. He’d known Dongsu since they were tiny punks running the streets of their hometown, constantly jumping fences they shouldn’t have been jumping and covered in scrapes and bruises. Dongsu was two years older but he’d always waited for Namhyung to catch up with him – he was reliable, and steady. He always knew what to expect with Dongsu.

And then, it had been a dusty-warm Saturday morning when Minseo was eighteen months old and awful, and Namhyung had agreed to babysit for the day while Dongsu drilled some young idol wannabe’s on vocal techniques.

“You’re amazing, Namhyung, seriously,” Dongsu said, fast and harried as he shoved his things in his backpack with one hand while propping Minseo on the other hip. She had her hair in tiny, messy pigtails, and looked about ready to burst.

“It’s no big deal, hyung, you know I’d just be fucking around at home anyways.” Dongsu shoots him a tightlipped look as he hands Minseo over, and Namhyung grins a little sheepishly. “I mean, messing around. Right, Minseo?”

She gives him the most murderous look he’s ever seen on a human that tiny, and tears well up in her eyes like magic.

“Shit,” Dongsu curses under his breath, and then looks immediately ashamed of himself. “Minseo, hey, it’s alright.” He steps in close so she can grab one of his hands, and he swings it a little. “Namhyung-oppa’s gonna be here, you guys always have fun.”

There’d been the normal negotiations of promised dessert for minimal tantrums, although Namhyung was never that sure how much of it Minseo had actually understood at the time. That morning, though, things shifted a little differently than they usually did.

Because: Dongsu was in a nice shirt and slacks, because he had to meet with some of the VP’s of the company to discuss trainee progress, and his hair was combed neatly and he looked serious and worried as he hovered in only inches away from Namhyung.

Namhyung felt stupid and clumsy and really, awfully young all of a sudden, because all he wanted at that moment was to press his mouth to the concerned wrinkles in between Dongsu’s furrowed brows and spread a calming hand on his lower back to guide him out the door. The thought of it, plus the way that Dongsu looked up at him with dark, grateful eyes, sent goosebumps down his arms.

So that had been a bit of a wake-up call.

Now, though, it feels strange that he was ever so tied up in anxiety about it at all.

Now, Dongsu smacks one more kiss on the corner of his mouth before pulling back enough to swipe the crumpled, half-empty box of cigarettes from his hand. “When are you gonna let me just throw these away?” he asks, half-teasing as he shakes the box at Namhyung. “I get enough grief from the kids at work smoking and ruining their voices, I don’t want to come home to it too.”

“I’m working on it, hyung.” Namhyung’s cheeky enough to pull Dongsu right back in and take the risk of mouthing at the skin behind his ear. Just as predicted, it makes Dongsu’s grip on the box loosen enough for Namhyung to take it back and shove it in the pocket of his sweats. “How early do you have to be back in the studio, again?”

“First lesson’s at ten,” Dongsu replies, fingers twitching against the back of Namhyung’s neck in a really weak attempt to get him to stop worrying at one of his earrings with his teeth, now. “You, ah, know that, though.”

Namhyung hums in acknowledgement but continues his current goal of lazily working his way down the side of Dongsu’s neck when the unmistakable sound of Minseo’s light-up kiddie keyboard rings out from the direction of their bedroom. Namhyung lets Dongsu push him away then, although they’re both laughing when they look behind them towards the sound.

“You just _had_ to buy her that thing, didn’t you?”

“’S your fault, I wanted her to get in touch with all of the musical genius genes she got from you.” Namhyung can’t help but grin at the back of Dongsu’s head as he tugs him towards Minseo’s bedroom, and he obediently follows.


	4. wear it like a locket (and hide the key) | jaehwan/sewoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaehwan/Sewoon (Howons), rated M just for suggestions of sex  
> Canon non-celebrity AU with slight magical realism twists
> 
> It's sweet, it's tooth-rotting, it's Howons.

Jaehwan’s boyfriend will like to sit in windowsills, with the warm sun casting golden against his skin and the curtains just barely fluttering in a summer breeze. He’ll let their cat curl up against his bent legs, purring gently in her chest while he reads a battered paperback that he probably got at some second-hand store. It’ll all be really hideously poetic – Jaehwan will hardly be able to help but write songs about him.

“You write songs about anything, though,” Jaehwan’s boyfriend will remind him, tone teasing but only enough to touch lightly on the subject, nowhere near harsh. “You’re a soft heart.”

“So what?” Jaehwan will pout then, and nudge his boyfriend over just enough to slip down behind him and wind arms around his waist, chin propped on his shoulder. “You love me anyways.”

At that Jaehwan’s boyfriend will hum, laugh a little, and go back to reading. He’ll let his weight fall back just enough into Jaehwan’s chest to support him, to acknowledge the presence.

Their apartment will be quiet, sometimes.

Other times, it will ring out loud with accidental feedback from guitar amps and speakers, or with bright, barking laughter when Jaehwan’s boyfriend says something low but hilarious and Jaehwan can’t help it.

Other times it’ll be their TV turned up high enough that Jaehwan can hear the cooking show that’s playing from the kitchen as he tries to follow along, before his boyfriend gets back from work and gently nags him about bothering their neighbors.

A lot of the time, though, it’ll be mostly quiet. Jaehwan’s boyfriend will say that he gets enough noise at work, thanks, and he appreciates having some peace when he’s finally home.

Jaehwan’s stomach will get all melty and gushy whenever he says things like that. _Home_. It’ll sound nice, coming from his mouth.

His boyfriend will get a little embarrassed when Jaehwan can’t help but hang all over him and kiss him with a loud smack when he says things like that, but it’s too precious. Jaehwan’s always had a weakness for things as sweet as him.

Their apartment won’t be new, but their things being all mixed in together will be. They’ll have started dating back in university, but his boyfriend would have been living separate with a few of his friends until their lease ran out and he very calmly suggested that they move in together.

Jaehwan will have tried to be very calm about it all, too, but may have given away too much of his unabashed excitement in the sex that’ll have quickly followed. He wouldn’t be able to help it, though – he’s a romantic, and his boyfriend will be so sweet and good-looking and perfect.

None of this is for sure, of course. Jaehwan’s mom used to always say not to put too much stock in the feelings that they tend to get – the thing with fate is that it’s wiggly and hard to grasp. Time tends to make things hard to predict; that’s just the way that it works.

Jaehwan never really listened. This sort of thing ran in their family, the ability to just kind of _feel_ stuff. When he was a kid he remembers just feeling that he would break his leg, and so when he fell off his bike on the way to school it wasn’t much of a surprise.

His mom was the same, and his grandmother on that side. Once, his grandmother had patted his cheek when she was visiting them and told him that he needed to make sure that his wife wasn’t allergic to cats. Jaehwan, already 16 and fairly gay at that point, had blinked and nodded and thought a little about the kitten at the pet store that he visited after school some times.

Around when he starts to write his own songs, alongside his guitar that he teaches himself to play at night instead of studying, that’s when he starts to get these specific kind of feelings about this boy. At first they just show up in bits in his lyrics without even noticing. He never thought much about love songs until every other thing he wrote mentioned a boy in a checkered shirt, or a boy with a sweet smile and sleepy eyes.

It was too repetitive to go unnoticed, and Jaehwan did exactly what his mother always said to avoid doing: he wrote it all down. In the back of the small notebook that he first bought to jot lyrics down in grew a messy list of broken bits of sentences.

Dark hair and a smile that coaxes out easily as the sun behind clouds.

An appreciation for music, somehow – Jaehwan hasn’t been able to pin down exactly in what area, but he’s sure that he’ll like Jaehwan’s songs. Or, at least, he hopes so.

(He hopes they’re good enough.)

He’ll have a sensitive spot just behind his ear, and another one on the pale inside of his wrist where the skin is thin enough to show veins clearly through.

He’ll be better at cooking than Jaehwan is.

Jaehwan’s mom wagged a finger at him when he packed up to move to his apartment for university. “You can’t bank on this boy that you’ve been talking about. You’ll starve if you don’t bother learning how to cook for yourself in the meantime.”

Jaehwan laughed loudly and squeezed her in a hug. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry. I have to spend most of my time at school, anyways. That’s what convenience stores are for.”

University quickly takes up all of Jaehwan’s time, and the list in the back of his notebook gets less and less clear. The boy will have a habit of twisting his fingers together. One time, the only thing Jaehwan feels is the quick, sharp dig of fingernails into the skin behind his shoulders. It feels so starkly real that he spends a whole ten minutes twisting shirtless and awkward in front of the bathroom mirror just to confirm that there aren’t actual scratch marks there.

One day, early on in his second year at Howon, a boy that he doesn’t think he’s seen before sits next to him in lecture.

Of course, Jaehwan thinks a few days later, after he’s been formally introduced to Jung Sewoon, he’s had to have seen him before, at least in passing. Applied Music is a tiny department, and they’re the same year. It has to have just been that they’ve managed to miss each other so far, or that Sewoon has a tendency to melt into the background a bit with his quiet voice and careful demeanor.

Then, a few weeks later, Jaehwan invites Sewoon over to the party that his roommate is throwing for the pre-exam season. He’s not surprised when Sewoon accepts the invitation but he is a little bit when he actually shows up.

“You know, I kind of just thought that you lived in the practice studios,” Jaehwan finds himself joking halfway through the night when they both find themselves hiding in the tiny kitchen, away from one of the vocal students who has made it her mission to drink with everybody in attendance at least once. “It’s good to see you out in public and everything.”

Sewoon has a funny kind of smile where it twists out at the corners and then bursts like a flower, and makes him duck his head a little against the brightness of it. Jaehwan thinks, idly, of a wind chime hanging in a window that looks out above the city. “I appreciate the invitation,” he says, peeking up through the slight shagginess of his fringe. “It’s been fun.”

Jaehwan grins wider, doesn’t try to stop himself, and for the rest of the night he can’t help but drift in the tide behind Sewoon.

He’s not totally oblivious. In fact, he’s a little dumbly hopeful about it all. Everything about Sewoon just seems to click so easily into what Jaehwan had been seeing and feeling for years now.

The first time they kiss is after one of these parties. Jaehwan, being the hyung and also stupidly in love already, offers to walk Sewoon home when it starts creeping towards two in the morning. Sewoon lets him, and when they finally trudge up the stairs to his apartment he spins just a little tipsily on his heels and, gripping the doorframe, looks at Jaehwan a little curiously. “Thanks,” he says, and reaches to tug on the zipper of Jaehwan’s jacket.

When Jaehwan doesn’t move, just stands and stares like an idiot, Sewoon’s mouth tips up hesitantly at the corners and then he’s rocking up on his toes and pressing his mouth against Jaehwan’s.

The first thing his mom had always said was not to put too much stock into their senses of the future because they could always change. The second thing she said, pressing back the hair on Jaehwan’s forehead, was to not let them get you down too much; life always had surprises, no matter how many clues you’d been given.

The surprises that come with dating Jung Sewoon send thrills through Jaehwan whenever he lets himself stop and think about it.

Sewoon is good at cooking but awful at most other things that come with being an adult. Jaehwan eventually melts him down enough to get him to buy a new coat, because the guy refuses to shop for himself any other time.

He treats his guitar like a longtime pet, but he’s not possessive about it. Jaehwan borrows it sometimes when he’s over at Sewoon’s, and they curl as close together as they can and listen to Jaehwan play.

Sewoon loves Jaehwan’s cat. It’s not the biggest shock; the two have almost the same kind of simple, content personality. Jaehwan’s a little sore about it when it’s clear that she likes Sewoon just a bit more than him, but that’s alright. Sewoon only teases him about it for a second before kissing him sweetly and pressing into his lap at the end of his couch.

At some point, a few weeks into dating, Jaehwan finds the spot behind Sewoon’s ear that makes him squirm and tighten his grip on Jaehwan’s shoulders, and the confirmation of all of it makes him a little giddy.

He’s only more excited when, entirely unexpectedly, Sewoon makes a habit of running his fingers up through the hair at the nape of Jaehwan’s neck and tugging just lightly, just enough to suggest the direction that he’d like Jaehwan to continue in next. He’s only happy enough to follow.

They both have nails a little longer than usual from guitar, and if anyone saw the state that they tend to leave Jaehwan’s shoulders and Sewoon’s hipbones they might be a little worried.

Happily, ultimately, regardless of it all:

Jaehwan stops writing in the back of his notebook. He still feels things, gut sensations and ghostly flashes of scenes, but it’s easier now to put them out of his mind. He doesn’t feel like he has to pack them away like a bear preparing for hibernation anymore. It can’t possibly be winter, now that he actually has Sewoon leaning back against him in their kitchen as the sun beams pale and white through their window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> P.S. come to [my twitter](https://twitter.com/ponyoprince) to hear me talk about a million different au ideas


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